Shut Your Eyes
by Kipling Bunny
Summary: Hotchner and Prentiss find themselves in a trap artfully designed by a killer. And time is not on their side. After finding no way out, all that's left to do is talk. And talk they shall.


Hello there! Okay - first things first - this is my first CM fic. So please go easy on me! I also have not had this looked over, so I pre-apologize for mistakes.

And secondly, I'm not really sure where my interest in Hotchner/Prentiss came from, but it has ridded me of my writer's block! (If you can tell by my profile, I'm in uncharted waters. My FF resume is usually littered with superheroes) Hooray! Thank goodness for Netflix. I had never seen the show on CBS, and a friend got me into it not too long ago. I love it, naturally. The characters keep you watching. And I do love these characters! I'm already in season 5, but I've read ahead and I know Prentiss' fate. Can't say I'm happy. But at least we have subtle HP moments (and the slow dance), and amazing fan made additions to tide us over. Who knows, maybe the very last episode of the series will hold a surprise in store (ala, George Clooney on ER), and we'll see Paget's pretty face. One can only hope.

Until then, there is fan fiction! Whoo-hoo!

Rambling over.

-Kipling

* * *

 _"Shut your eyes, and think of somewhere,_

 _Somewhere cold and caked in snow._

 _By the fire we break the quiet,_

 _Learn to wear each other well." — Shut Your Eyes, Snow Patrol_

* * *

"We're locked in." Emily kept banging on the sides; it was all solid, save for the ceiling. "I'm sorry Hotch. I didn't realize walking on top of this thing would lead us into a trap."

"I wasn't going to let you go in alone," he responded, his voice as matter-of-fact as ever.

Prentiss, closely tailed by Hotchner, had walked into an abandoned barn that hid a hollowed out floor and a spring-loaded trap door that dropped unsuspecting passersby into a box when it wasn't in use.

The two agents had nearly toppled onto each other from the ceiling, and as soon as they had fallen in, a droning hum of fluorescent flickered on overhead, with the trap snapping shut. Someone, their UNSUB no doubt, was probably watching them. And that's when the heat started coming in.

The vent above them was blasting in heat at an alarming rate. At least they weren't going to run out of air. They would just bake to death.

Hotch was studying the layout of the box yet again, running his hands over the smooth metal, looking for an exposed seam. Anything, really. But it was becoming futile.

"I think it's a reformatted shipping crate. Designed to trap and kill." He reached into his pocket and checked his phone. "And something is blocking our reception."

The hot air in the room was dry and heavy. It was already weighing on Prentiss. "It's getting warmer pretty rapidly. This thing is going to heat up fast." She pushed down a flight or fight response. They were going to be okay. Of course they would be okay. She cleared her throat. "It ... Uh... It explains the Lattimer's condition when they were discovered." She shuddered at the image.

Hotch was eyeing the hatch that had collapsed beneath them, initially sealing them in.

"What if I tried hoisting you up, better access to bang on that hatch? See if it will budge?"

Emily nodded. "It's worth a shot."

Hotch walked over, knelt down and Emily sat down on his shoulders. Strong hands gripped her thighs as he stood back up.

She suppressed a shiver that threatened to run up her spine. It had nothing to do with the perilous situation they had found themselves in: stuck in an overheating metal container artfully designed by a serial killer who enjoyed watching people bake to death. But it had everything to do with the fact that Aaron Hotchner's hands were wrapped around her legs, and her legs were draped over his shoulders... And his head was positioned in between them.

She had many a daydream of similar situations.

 _Snap out of it. This isn't the time or place,_ she chided herself. _You could both die in here. And this isn't just some juvenile crush that's in danger. This is your teammate. Your unite chief._

Thankfully she snapped to attention as quickly as her thoughts had wandered.

She reached up, her fingers barely brushing the hatch. "Just a little further..."

Hotch stood up on his toes as far as he could go while carrying an additional 120 pounds his shoulders. The added inches were enough to slap her hand on the rapidly warming metal top-hatch.

"Careful," he said, readjusting his hands on her legs. If she didn't know any different, she could've sworn he was trying to get better feel of her thighs. But that was silly. Especially at a time like this.

In one swift move, Emily punched her fist as hard yet as safely as she could muster. The hatch didn't budge. And now her knuckles stinging to high heaven. She fought back a curse.

"You okay?"

She winced, but he'd never see it. "Oh yeah, I've had much worse. This metal is solid alright. And the hatch is completely sealed off."

She fished her cell out of her pocket. Dammit. "No reception up here either."

He helped lower her off his shoulders.

"At least we tried." He gave her a patented Hotchner grimace.

Emily offered half a smile. "Teamwork. Sorry you had to carry me on your shoulders. _If_ \- ..." She smiled fully this time. " _When_ \- we get out of here, I can give you a shoulder rub." She was half joking. And half very serious.

She wasn't sure if it was the rising heat, but Hotch almost appeared to have blushed at that.

He shrugged it off. "It was nothing..." And it was probably true. Despite his willowy frame, the man was solidly built and was surprisingly very strong.

Due to her recent proximity to Hotchner, Emily temporarily forgot about the temperature and their predicament. But now that her hair was matting to her skin and her sweater and pants were sticking to every crevice of her body, it was more than obvious they were screwed.

She waved a hand in front of her face and blew her side-swept bangs away. "Did it just get a hell of a lot hotter in here?"

In answer to her question, Hotchner tore off his suit jacket and set it aside. He then nodded toward the vent. The vent that would not stop pouring in hot air. The vent that most definitely had a hidden camera, better for their UNSUB to watch them suffer. There was no way he wasn't documenting this. It's how he was going to get off on it later. That is, if he wasn't caught first.

"We could always try to use my jacket to stove up that vent. And just prolong..." He swallowed. "Prolong our comfort until we're rescued."

They were going to be rescued. There was no doubt in Emily's mind. But whether they would still be among the living was another question.

Hotch and Prentiss had left Reid and Morgan with the local sheriff at a diner just down the road, getting information from the patrons and staff of the only well-visited spot in the tiny spit of a town. The two of them followed a lead to the now empty farm house and barn.

At least 8 people had gone missing in the rural Virginia town. And only the young Lattimers had been discovered; two crispy bodies left to sun-dry in the back hills along highway 34.

Who knew if the other six had had a similar fate.

The crate now seemed to be devoid of evidence. Almost sterile. Spotless. Similar to an oven on self-cleaning mode. It was going to burn away any proof of human inhabitants. Including them.

Hotch motioned with a nudge of his head and held up his jacket. "Back on the shoulders?"

In another life, during different circumstances, Emily's heart would have skipped a beat at Aaron Hotchner inviting her to straddled his neck. But was reality was a harsh and cruel mistress. And rule number one was staying alive.

Once again he held her in place with strong hands as Emily maneuvered on his shoulders.

Aaron's sweat was mixing well with his cocktail of a scent — it was accosting her nostrils as she stuffed his suit jacket into the vent.

A waft of aftershave, some sort of hair styling product, and a scent that she couldn't put a finger on, something entirely 'Hotch' tickled her brain.

"I hope it doesn't catch fire. That's the last thing we need," he quipped.

She needed to get off his shoulders. Fast. Between his continuous grip on her thighs, his head between her legs, and his damn heady scent... If the room wasn't already so bloody hot, Emily would've heated it up all on her own.

He lowered her down once again, and he turned to face her.

"Are you okay?" His hands were now starting to reach for his neck tie. It was going to be the next thing to go.

Emily nodded and backed away slowly. This was like strip poker from hell. The heat was weighing on her like a ton of bricks. Each additional tick upward in temperature made her mind hazier.

She had had dreams where she watched Hotch undress before her. Or where she had done it for him. Or he was doing it to her. Sometimes aggressive. Needy. Sometimes slow and languid. Oddly enough, the dreams had intensified after Haley's death. Somewhere in the deep recesses of Emily's mind she somehow felt she needed to take care of him emotionally. And physically. _Very_ physically. Each time as depressing as before when she woke up to a Hotch-less bed.

And now it was real. And it was happening. And it was _the worst._

Their chances of burning to death or suffocating on hot air were far too high, and here she was watching the man of said dreams inch closer to taking off his shirt.

Damn the box. She'd rather suffocate.

She covered her face with her hands. Emily knew at some point, in order to remain comfortable, she would have to take off her own sweater. And that was it. Only her bra would remain. Not even a camisole.

If she had to stand in front of Aaron Hotchner wearing a bra and knowing it wasn't for the right reasons, she might just die.

This gesture of distress alarmed Hotch, naturally. He walked over, gently taking one of her hands and moving it from her face.

"Emily..." He was using her first name. Her pulse quickened, she hoped he couldn't feel it. "It's going to be okay, we're going to make it."

He was giving her a small smile. A ' _we will survive, we've done it numerous times_ ' smile. Hotch didn't have to be so reassuring. It was kind gesture. Now if only he would stop touching her hand.

And that's when she saw it. His gentle boss-like demeanor had cracked around the edges, and something feral, something eager was showing. His hand was was slick with sweat. Emily watched him lick his lips and stare her down... And ... Back away slowly.

"We should sit. Conserve energy." And sit he did.

She followed suit and noticed his watchful gaze never faltered. He looked like he could spring at the drop of a hat, or pounce and do ... She didn't know what. Perhaps it was her imagination tricking her into seeing what she wanted to see.

The air between them was now charged with awkwardness. She was going attempt to diffuse it with light conversation.

She twisted her hair with one hand, and piled it onto her head and held it there, wishing she had something with her to keep it off her neck. "I don't know about you, but ... I prefer cold to hot. I've never been a hot weather girl. In college my schoolmates would scramble to the closest beach to wear the smallest bikinis during spring break. And I would stay home, do my homework and I would imagine myself..." She closed her eyes. It was getting difficult to think straight.

Her eyes opened and leveled on his. He was waiting for her to finish, sweat dripping in slow intervals down his face. Maybe her rambling was helping. Or maybe she shouldn't have mentioned bikinis. She couldn't tell.

"I would imagine myself in Finland. Or Norway. Iceland." She smiled. Damn, what she wouldn't give to feel _ice_.

"Iceland," he repeated. He closed his eyes now. And hazily muttered: "let's go there someday."

Did business-first, standoffish Hotch just make pseudo vacation plans with her?

"I ... Uh. Yes, let's!" Did that sound too eager? Hotch kept his eyes closed, allowing her to ramble on if she chose to. "Don't get me wrong, white sand and Palm trees are great. But..." She watched him start unbutton his shirt.

"I'm sorry Prentiss. I have to take my shirt off." He settled his gaze on hers. "I hope that's not going to make you uncomfortable."

She snorted and waved her hand. "What? No! You need to do what you need to do..."

She watched him as he slowly, methodically started to unbutton his shirt. She swallowed.

He looked over at her and caught her watching.

"I'm going to have to take off my sweater," she deadpanned. It was too hot. And she was making herself hotter. Dammit.

It was now his turn to look like a deer in the headlights.

"I don't know if I can do this..." He said quietly, stripping off his shirt, revealing the cotton undershirt no one on Earth was supposed to see. The removal of his dress shirt also revealed perfect forearms, biceps... And the hint of chest hair.

Emily bit her lower lip.

She wasn't sure how to take his words, so she simply nodded in agreement and chuckled. "See me with out a shirt on? I know, it's going to be rough..."

 _Believe me. It will be rough alright._

He all but glared at her, taking her off guard.

Sweat glistened off his face in the fluorescent lighting, making him appear almost angelic. "That's _not_ what I meant." He released a heavy sigh. "I..."

He looked like he was at war with himself. A real push and pull of emotion; she had never seen anything like it come from him before.

"What is it, sir?"

"I can't stop thinking how... How I might not get to see my son ever again." His voice cracked.

Her face fell. This heat was making them delirious. And desperate. Typically they would be too professional to show it. But now it was all about to crash down around them.

"Please don't talk like that..."

He let out a breath slowly, blowing air on his face. "But there's more than that. There's something else." He set his jaw, his eyes boring into hers. "We could die today. In front of each other. Yet, I will have died never having told you how I really feel about you." Leave it to Hotch to expose his feelings, yet keep his face neutral. She couldn't read him, and she was a profiler.

Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. Words weren't forming. And clouds of thoughts were bursting in her mind, unable to string together coherent sentences.

He continued. "When I saw you, for the first time, for that brief twenty minutes back when I was working for your mother... I thought you were one of the most beautiful women I'd had ever laid eyes on."

She blinked at him. A bubble of emotion was stirring within her being. It was like everything she wanted was projecting from her mind and becoming tangible. This couldn't be real.

"And I knew that it would just be a memory. A beautiful memory. Until you walked into my office, that fateful day, to join my team. I couldn't have it. I was married. The last thing I needed as a distraction."

It explains why he was so hesitant for her to join. She just assumed ... What had she assumed? That he didn't like her? Was turned off by her? Her brain wasn't working on all cylinders, while pure adrenaline was coursing through her system. It was an awful, yet heady combination.

She tried to think back, those many years ago, to when he worked security detail for her mother. Usually anything pertaining to her mother's profession hadn't interested her. But she did remember him. He had caught her eye; there was no way he couldn't have. Young, capable, incredibly handsome. Wearing a wedding ring. That's what she could recall.

"And now..." He sighed. "I ... I play by the rules. I can't fraternize with a coworker. I have to keep everything at arms length. And that includes you. I'm ... Sorry if I have truly made you uncomfortable."

The heat was driving her mad. She was afraid it was also driving him mad, forcing him to say things he didn't mean.

But it didn't stop her from crying. A couple of tears streamed down her face. Her suppressed emotion was now running wild, but then it prompted her to laugh.

"Aaron Hotchner. I was driving myself crazy thinking I had fallen for someone who could never love me. Ever since Foyet, I wanted nothing more than to reach out to you. To keep you safe. And since I'm so good at compartmentalizing, my feelings would emerge in my dreams. And ... I'd always be heart broken when I woke up alone."

The tears, at least, were cooling down her face.

He took this as invitation. "Emily ..." He scooted closer. "I want to touch you."

She reacted in kind, without a word, and started touching his arms. Shoulders. Face.

His mouth reached hers. Eager, pulsing mouths. His tongue brushed her lips, parting them instantly. Fisting her hair, he pulled her closer, pressing his body towards hers.

She gasped. "I'm so hot. Hotch. Please help - ..." Her eyes fluttered.

"Stay with me, Emily. Please." He reached down and pulled her sweater over her head, followed by pressing his lips to her forehead.

She was burning up. And Hotch was only making it worse by being so close. But she didn't want him to leave her side. Not now. Especially not now.

Emily's eyes were staying closed. It took too much to keep them open, but his presence was still there. Aching to touch, they knew they shouldn't. The air alone was burning a hole through her body.

If they ... _When_ they got to safety. She was going to make up for lost time.

She forced her eyes open one last time and focused on his face. Nothing else mattered. The box. The fluorescent lights. Life or death. Aaron was hers. An aching piece in her soul had been put to rest, she was now truly happy.

She tried her best to memorize his features. His dark, concerned eyes. His mouth. God, what she wanted to do to his mouth. His mouth was speaking to her. She couldn't hear him anymore.

She managed to speak before it all went dark. "I love you, Aaron Hotchner."

* * *

The beep of a heart monitor penetrated Emily's psyche.

She opened her eyes slowly to blinding light that gradually subsided. There was an outline of a man standing over her.

"Hotch?" She asked, her voice cracked. Her mouth was dry.

No answer.

Her eyes focused and Derek Morgan's smiling face greeted her.

"Good morning, Princess!" He then laughed. "I guess it's not morning. But still ..."

"Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital. You were emitted for heat exhaustion." Morgan went on about their UNSUB, Casey Waterhouse, a disgruntled engineer who had been fired and went into the tanning and hide business. Except for a few of his hides had been human. The team had put two and two together, as the DNA results of one of the said tanned hides had been Waterhouse's former employer.

"That box... I would have been freaking out! You two really played it cool." He then grinned at his own bad joke.

The box flashed into her head. The heat. Oh god, the heat. _Hotch_. Hotch was there. She could remember him ... Speaking? Touching her ... Kissing her.

It all came flooding back.

Emily started to sit up far too quickly, allowing the headache building in the base of her skull to attack with full force. She was held back by the rehydration IV in her arm and Morgan's hand on her shoulder.

He was reacting like a concerned parent. "Whoa, whoa ... Take it easy, Prentiss."

"Where's Hotch? What happened?"

JJ entered her room. "I'm glad to see you're awake!"

"How did you find us?" Emily finally asked.

"We found you not too soon after you had blacked out. Garcia tracked your phones via their GPS." JJ then added: "We were also able to retrieve the camera hidden in the air vent; it had an internal hard drive which was also linked wirelessly to Waterhouse's computer. Thankfully it had saved all of our evidence against him."

Hotch's jacket. They had covered the camera! Emily let out a sigh of relief. At least the BAU team leader and his subordinate briefly giving into their desires wouldn't be seen by anyone else.

Emily snapped back to reality. "But we didn't have service on our phones ..."

Morgan smiled. "You know my baby girl, she works magic!" He then grinned and handed Prentiss her phone. "Speaking of which, I may or may not have changed your ringtone." He closed his eyes and started to sway. " _It's gettin' hot in here... So take off all your clothes!"_

Emily's eyes widened in shock, and then laughed. "You didn't! Oh my god, Morgan ... Don't make me throw a pillow at you."

As if appearing out of thin air, Hotchner was at the doorway. He was already dressed in a new suit. Of course.

He knocked on the open door. "May I come in?"

Emily couldn't stop the grin on her face from spreading. "Yes, of course."

"Given a clean bill of health?" Morgan asked.

"Yes, I am free to go. But I was hoping I could speak with Prentiss alone?"

JJ shot Emily a raised eyebrow, but quickly ushered herself and Morgan out of the room and closed the door behind her. JJ was a smart woman.

Once they were alone, Hotch stood there awkwardly for a moment.

"Hey."

"Hey," Emily responded with a smile. But she couldn't help but feel nervous. The chances of this not ending well were in her favor.

"You seem to be feeling better."

She nodded. "I am. I could go for a giant glass of ice water. And a gallon of ice cream. But..." She pointed to her IV, "this seems to be doing the trick."

"I'm glad. I was worried about you back there." He now smiled. "It's only because you were so nervous about taking off your sweater."

Emily laughed. And then she looked down, it was back on her. She wondered when that happened and who put it on for her. "This sweater. I should burn it later. It's only fitting."

She eyed him. "And I see you have another suit on. I think you came out of the womb in a suit."

For a brief moment he looked a tad sheepish. "I have an emergency suit in the SUV."

His face then fell back into the Hotch default expression. "I was hoping to talk about what happened..."

She nodded. She understood, really she did. But she was mentally preparing herself, steeling herself for what was to come.

"I'm sorry for what came over me," he said cautiously.

"Hotch, if you're trying to tell me that it was a mistake to say anything, and that it was desperation speaking and it didn't mean anything, you can just flat out tell me. I can take it." Her eyes were pleading with him. She couldn't handle a dance of 'what if', it needed to be yes or no. She then would adjust.

His unreadable expression cracked oh-so slightly. "I want to try."

This threw her for a loop. But her delight was clearly written on her face. "You...you do? But you said, rules... And what about Strauss?"

Instead of a verbal response, he cupped her cheek and bent down to brush her lips with his. "For the sake of my sanity, I need to try, Emily. I can't express how much I want you. Need you. Right now."

Her breath hitched. She found her hands reaching for the back of his neck, sliding her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. Their kiss deepened, starting slow but quickly developed it a frenzy. He groaned into her mouth after his free hand brushed against her beasts. He started to pull away.

"You know, we're still in a hospital."

She motioned to her bed. "These things are sturdy. I've heard.

"Heard? You want our first time in your hospital bed?" He laughed. It was beautiful.

 _Our_. It sounded perfect coming from him.

She let out a frustrated sigh. "We have GOT to get out of here." Emily reached for his hand brought it to her mouth.

"You are a beautiful man, Hotch. I just have to say that."

He grinned. Two dimples. Just for her. "Maybe you could call me Aaron. You know, every once in awhile."

The door to the room swung open, and a nurse popped in. "Looks like you're getting an early release," she said while glancing over Emily's chart.

Hotch met Emily's eyes as she mouthed: 'thank god.'

The nurse looked up from the chart at Hotch. "She'll need to take it easy tonight." It was amusing to both of them that the nurse naturally assumed they were together. They certainly looked the part.

The nurse then added to Emily: "And make sure you get extra liquids. I would start on some ibuprofen right away. You're going to develop a headache gradually from dehydration. "

Emily had forgotten all about her throbbing head. Her mouth was throbbing instead.

She watched the nurse walk over to her IV and remove it from her arm, replacing it with a cotton ball and tape.

And with that, the nurse was gone and once again they were alone.

"Jack is at his grandmother's tonight," Hotch said as he helped her out of the bed, and looped his arms around her.

"Agent Hotchner, are you inviting me over?" She asked coyly.

"Not an invitation. More of an order."

"Taking it easy tonight..." Emily said, and then whispered into his ear, "could pose a problem."

This made him laugh. He cupped her face and brought her in for a chaste kiss, which only left her silently begging for more.

"Sweetheart, we have a lot of future ahead of us. We can afford an easy night, after our day."

Emily couldn't believe what she was hearing. It was amazing how much a single day could change her entire outlook on life. Now she was enjoying basking in the glow of the love she had always wanted. And to think it took an UNSUB to make it happen...

"Lets get out of here," Emily said, forcing her hands to cease their exploration of his body covered with unnecessary material. "I need to get you out of this stupid suit."

He pulled away briefly and looked her straight in the eye. "Before I forget, there's something I need to tell you. You might have not heard and blacked out too soon."

"What?"

"I love you, Emily Prentiss."


End file.
